


The Test

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, Plot What Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim decides to run a test on Blair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Test

## The Test

by Pink Dragon

Not mine, no money made, no one got hurt, no harm, no foul.

Having recovered (mostly) from the depression that produced "Quarantine" I offer something a little fluffier. <g> Not betaed. Please feed the Dragon.

* * *

It's just a test, Sandburg," I tell him, reasonably. "We do tests all the time." 

"We do tests on you, Jim. Not me," he responds, his voice full of amusement. 

"So you're just going to thwart my budding interest in science?" 

"I didn't know you had an interest in science. Budding or otherwise." 

"Well, I do." 

He's looking at me with his hands on his hips and his eyes narrowed, like he thinks it's a trick. Which it is. "Since when?" he inquires. 

"Since I formulated a hypothesis and developed an experiment to test said hypotheses," I answer, again, perfectly reasonably. You'd think I was asking him to dance naked on the patio with a ribbon tied around his dick. Well, maybe later, but we'll work up to it. 

"So what is this hypothesis, then?" 

"If I tell you it'll skew the results of the test, Sandburg." God, I love playing with his mind. Just like I'm gonna love playing with his body if he'd just get with the program, here. 

He snorts, (which is really unattractive, but I love him anyway,) throws his hands up in the air and says, "Okay, okay, I give up. What do I have to do?" 

"Nothing. Just stand there. I'll do everything." 

"What the fuck kind of test is that if I don't have to do anything?" he says, grinning at me. 

"Just shut up, Sandburg." 

He snorts again and says affectionately, "Well, get on with it then. I've been standing here for 10 minutes already. We could be done by now." Oh, no, not by a long shot, baby, I think to myself. 

I go around the loft and turn off all the lights. The fireplace gives off a warm glow, counteracting the cool night air coming in through the open patio doors. I light a fat green candle that sits on the coffee-table. It's supposed to smell like the forest but it's not even close. It does smell nice though, just not like a forest. "There, all ready," I say and give a nod of satisfaction. "Now, just stand right there by the patio doors and take a deep breath and relax." 

"I thought you said I didn't have to do anything," he says, still grinning at me, hands back on his hips. 

"Get with the program, Sandburg. You at least have to cooperate." 

"Hey, I'm the most cooperative guy I know. Unlike some Sentinels around here, cooperative is my middle name." I realize that's one more thing I don't know about him, his middle name. For someone who talks as much as he does, he shares surprisingly little about himself. He talked for half an hour tonight about the Wa, ancient inhabitants of the Japanese archipelago, whatever the hell that is, but I don't know the man's middle name. 

"Tell me one time I refused to perform one of your tests." I may have pitched a hissy fit every time, but I did it. 

He frowns at me and says, "Well, there was the time I made you count the number of... oh, no, you finally did that one." I grin at him, and he narrows his eyes at me again. "How about the time with the vials of... oh, no, you did that one, too. Hey, I know, there was the time you absolutely refused to eat tripe!" 

"That wasn't an experiment, that was torture, pure and simple. Nobody should have to eat something that disgusting. So, see, Sandburg, I'm very cooperative. Now, relax, take a deep breath, and just stand there, okay?" 

"Okay, okay, I'm standing, I'm standing." He's grinning at me again. I can't wait to wipe that smile off his face. With my tongue. 

I walk over to him, put my hands on his shoulders and slide them down his arms, slowly. He's still got his fists on his hips, and I pull them both away from his body and rub gently at them till he relaxes his fingers. "Relax, Blair," I say quietly. "Just relax." 

He's looking up at me, his lips slightly parted, eyes soft and impossibly blue in the low light. Moonlight and starlight are blending with the candlelight and firelight to bathe the loft in a warm, golden haze, reflecting off the patio windows and fading to darkness in the corners. The city is quiet, it's late, we've been sitting out on the patio, drinking first beer, then herbal tea. Just talking, relaxing, enjoying each other's company. And I finally decided that there was no time like the present, for my test, so here we are. 

"You can close your eyes if you want to," I tell him quietly. 

"Hmm, no, I think I'll watch," he says suspiciously. "If you don't mind." 

"I don't mind a bit," I say softly. "Don't move." Then I let go of his hands, move my body to within inches of his as his eyes go wide, place my hands gently around his waist and lay my cheek against his hair. I hear him inhale sharply, hold it for a couple of seconds, then he lets it out, slowly. His heart-rate has increased, just a bit, and I start slowly rubbing the small of his back with the fingertips of one hand, in gentle little circles. 

"So this is the test?" he asks quietly. 

"Yeah, this is pretty much it," I reply, my mouth against his hair. He breathes in and out slowly, and I can tell it's his meditation breathing. I just stand there, with my hands around his waist, and wait. I'm not really touching him anywhere except with my hands, and my cheek against his hair. I breathe in, slow and deep, letting him hear me scenting him, and his breath hitches just a bit. Then slowly his hands come up and rest on my waist, mirroring mine. I don't respond at all, just let him touch me there, letting him know it's okay to touch me. Several long sweet minutes later he just sort of leans against my chest, his cheek coming down against my shoulder, his face against my neck. 

I was right. He's in love with me. 

I can't help making just the very smallest sound of pleasure in the back of my throat, and he echoes it back to me. So I wrap my arms loosely around him, and stroke his back, long slow sweeps of my hands, from waist to shoulders, and back again. His arms go around me, holding me tightly. Then he rubs his face against my shirt, and that does it, it totally does me in, and I have to have his mouth on mine. Now. 

I slide my hands up into his hair, cradle his head, and pull it away from my shoulder. His eyes are wide and full of heat, the heat I've been seeing for the last few weeks. He's been trying to hide it from me, but I'm a Sentinel, after all. I see everything. I smile at him, and he whispers, "How did you know?" 

I shrug and say back, "I only saw what I wanted to see. I don't know how long you've been in love with me, but as soon as I was ready to see it in your eyes, when you looked at me, it was there. I couldn't have missed it if I tried," I say softly. "I love you, too, Blair. I love you." 

He smiles a blinding smile at me, and I rub my fingers slowly against his head and tip my mouth down to meet his. 

I knew kissing him would be a sensual feast, but I was sure I would be the one enjoying that feast. I was wrong. As soon as my mouth brushes lightly against his, he lets out this tiny "oh..." of sound, and his eyes flutter closed, and he tips his head back, and parts his lips, and lets me into the slick, wet heat of his mouth, and he is lost. His heart is pounding, his fingers dig into the muscles of my back, and he lets his weight fall against my body, trusting me to hold him. So I do. 

I crush him against me, one arm around his waist, the other around his shoulders. I can feel his erection, and his pulse racing under his skin, and I can feel his nipple ring through all the layers of our clothes. Oh, fuck. I've had fantasies about that nipple ring that you wouldn't even believe. Then he rubs his tongue slowly, so slowly, against mine, and groans deep in his chest, and just fucking rubs his whole body against mine, and then I lose it, too. I tear my mouth from his, and his eyes open slowly, dazed and glassy, and I wait until he's finally looking at me, and I whisper fiercely, "Say it, Blair." 

He knows what I mean, knows what I want, and he smiles at me sweetly and he says it. "I love you. I love you. I love you, you big dummy, what the fuck took you so long to figure it out?" 

I laugh softly, and bury my face in his hair, and I can feel him smiling against my shoulder, and I stand there and just rock him gently in arms. After more long, sweet minutes of just holding him against me, he says, "So. Is the test over yet?" 

"No. It isn't over. You haven't answered all the questions yet," I mouth softly into his hair. 

"I didn't know there were going to be questions, man." 

"What's a test without questions?" 

"Well hurry up and ask 'em so we can get to the sex." 

I laugh and he chuckles back to me. "There's gonna be sex?" I say. 

"Unless you're the world's biggest cock tease, there'd better be sex, pally, lots and lots of sex." 

"Questions first, though." I say softly. 

"Kay..." he whispers back. "Let 'em rip." 

"What's your middle name?" 

He laughs and says, "My middle name? You didn't have to do this to find out my middle name, man." 

"That's just the first question. You gonna answer it or not?" 

"Jacob. My middle name is Jacob." 

"Blair Jacob Sandburg. That's a good name." 

I can feel his grin again when he says, "It's always served me well." 

"Blair Jacob Sandburg, will you live with, be my love, grow old with me and love me till the day I die?" 

He gasps and stills in my arms. Then he pulls away enough to look at me. I can see the emotion in his eyes, and the love. He says softly, "James Joseph Ellison, I have always loved you and I will love you till the day I die." Then he presses a sweet, chaste kiss against my mouth, to seal our vow. When he pulls away and looks at me, his smile is small, but his eyes are sparkling with love. "Any more questions?" 

"Yes. Lots of them. Where were you born?" 

He grins at me and says, "It was 1969, man, San Francisco, where else?" 

I grin back at him. "Where is the first place you remember living?" 

He tips his head to the side and thinks for a moment. "Ah, a little house in Mendocino. That's in California." 

"I know where Mendocino is, smarty-pants. Where did you go to elementary school?" 

"Didn't go to elementary school." 

I frown at him and he giggles. "Home school, man. Till I was twelve." 

"Oh," I say. "Where did you go to high school?" 

"Freshman year I went to high school in Cape Cod. I skipped sophomore year. Junior year in Key West. Senior year in San Juan Capistrano. I'm tri-coastal, man." 

I grin at him. "Did you start college at Rainier, or did you go somewhere else first?" 

"All nine years at Rainier. Started at 16, finished at... well, you know when I finished," he says a little sadly. 

"I want you to finish your doctorate, Blair." 

"I don't know how I can do that, man." 

"Well, we'll talk about it and figure something out. I owe it to you, Chief. I want you to have that. I want you to be Dr. Sandburg." 

"Aw, you just want to be married to a doctor," he says jokingly. 

I answer softly, sincerely, "Yes, Blair, I do." 

His eyes go wide, and then he smiles at me. "Any more questions?" 

"Lots, baby. Lots." He laughs again, and it's working. He's relaxing in my arms, resting comfortably against me. Calm and serene. "Who was your first kiss?" 

"Boy or girl?" he asks, and I can hear the teasing humor in his voice. 

"Both, of course," I say reasonably. After all, I'm a reasonable person. 

"Hmmm," he says softly, rubbing his cheek against my shoulder. "First kiss with a girl, Chrissie Melton. We were nine. First kiss with a boy, Chris Franchisi. We were fourteen. I always thought them both being named Chris was something of an omen." 

"Well, you would. Who was the first person you made love with?" I whisper softly. 

He pulls away and looks up at me. "You, Jim. You'll be the first person I make love with." When I look back at him with disbelief, he laughs and says, "No, man, I'm not a blushing virgin. I've had sex," he says. Then his voice gets soft and full of love, and he says, "I've just never made love. I've never been in love. Till now." Oh god. This is gonna be so fucking good. "Any more questions?" he says, smiling sweetly at me. 

I pull his head back to my shoulder and say, "Yes. Lots. What's your favorite color?" 

"Blue." 

"What's your favorite food?" 

"Tongue. You know that." 

"I thought you were joking." 

"No joke, man." 

"What's your favorite flower?" 

"I don't have a favorite flower." 

"You don't have a favorite flower?" I ask, incredulously. "Everyone has a favorite flower." 

"That's women, man. Men don't have favorite flowers." 

"Well, some men do. Gay men do." 

He laughs softly. "I don't." 

"Okay, what's your favorite city?" 

"New York." 

"What!? That's so plebian," I say teasingly. 

"New York is the melting pot of the world, man. There are people from everywhere there. The most exciting place I've ever been," he says. Then he continues softly, "'cept here. The most exciting place I've ever been, except right here." Then he squeezes me and looks up at me and smiles that Blair-smile. The one that gets him anything he wants. 

And now I think he's ready for the final question. He's relaxed, and trusting, accustomed to being in my arms, comfortable touching me, and holding me. So I go for the brass ring. 

"Will you fuck me tonight? Please?" 

First his eyes go wide with shock, then the heat is back in them, then the Guide takes over. Just like I hoped he would. "James Ellison. You... you..." 

Then he just clamps his mouth shut, pursing up that luscious, fuckable mouth, and he totally loses it. He wraps his fingers in the front of my shirt and shoves me backward, following right after me. He pushes me and turns me till my back is against the brick wall, banging my head against it just a little too hard. He leans into me, forcefully, holding me there. His heart-rate has sky-rocketed, and his eyes are dark with lust and love. He shoves one knee between my legs and forces my legs wide apart, keeping them there by the simple expedient of putting one foot just inside each of mine and leaning into me. I can feel his cock, hard and perfectly alligned against mine. Oh, fuck. He takes my hands, laces our fingers together and slams them back against the brick, above my head, and holds them there. I can feel the rough brick against my back and my ass and the backs of my legs, and even rougher against the bare skin of the backs of my hands. I can feel his nipple ring pressing against my chest. I'm hard as a rock. 

Then he starts talking, low and soft and dirty. "Yes, James Ellison. I will fuck you." He moves till his mouth is barely brushing against mine, his eyes never leaving mine, and he whispers fiercely against my mouth, "I will fuck you so good, so slow, so sweet and so dirty and so hard that you will never look at another man or another woman again as long as you live." 

"Oh, god..." I gasp. 

"Yes," he continues, grinding his cock against mine, his voice still fierce and rough. "You will call me god, and jesus, and you will call me harder and more and please. You will beg me to let you come. You will beg me to suck you. You will beg me to stick my hard cock in your tight little ass and slam it into that sweet spot inside you that sets your balls on fire. I will lick you from your eyelashes to your toes. You'll set every dial on ten and I will blow your cock and your mind until you're nothing but a puddle of fried nerve endings. Then I'll do it again." 

And that's when I come. In my pants, like a teen-ager, long and hard, jerking my hips to press my cock against his. "Yeeessss...." he groans, his mouth against mine now. Then he kisses me. And then he comes, too, biting my lower lip hard, and grinding his cock against me. As soon as his cock stops jerking, he slowly melts against me. He pulls his hands away from mine, and our arms go around each other, and I cradle him to my chest, gasping against his mouth. 

"Blair... oh, god, Blair. You're gonna kill me. Being with you is gonna fucking kill me." Then I start to chuckle, and so does he. 

"Jesus, Jim. That was fucking unbelievable, man." 

"Yeah, it was. But you didn't answer my question." 

"Question?" 

"Yeah, you remember. The test?" 

He snuggles his head against my shoulder, pressing kisses against my shirt and says, "Oh yeah, the test. What was the question, again?" 

"The question is, will you fuck me?" 

He groans, and my cock gives a little twitch. He must have felt it, cause I can feel his smile against my neck. "You bet your sweet ass I'll fuck you. Just, apparently, not tonight." 

"Soon?" 

"Oh, yeah, man. Real soon." Then he tenses up, and pulls away and looks up at me. 

"What?" I ask softly, caressing his cheek with my fingertips. 

"This really sort of changes things, huh?" 

I knew it. He'd have to talk about it. Thank god I'm ready. "Well," I say, reasonably, again, "Let me ask you some questions." 

"Okaaaayyy..." he says, still watching me carefully. 

"Do you love me?" 

"Yes." 

"Would you like to sleep with me? I mean actually, you know, sleep with me. In my room. In my bed. Our bed." 

He smiles a little and says, "Yes." 

"Would you like to move your stuff upstairs? Your clothes, and your books, whatever?" 

He smiles a little more and says, "Yes." 

"Would you like to turn your room into an office? A real office, with a desk and filing cabinets, and shelves and stuff?" 

He's grinning at me now. "Yes," he says, and I can hear the happiness in his voice. 

"Would you like a new computer for your new office?" 

"I could use a new computer," he says, matter-of-factly. "Yes." 

"Would you like to have a joint checking account with me?" I ask softly, tracing his cheekbone with my thumb. 

His eyes go wide and soft, and he whispers, "Yes." 

"Would you like to own half the loft?" 

He grins and says, "How much is the mortgage, man?" 

"No mortgage, Blair. Paid for, in full." 

"No shittin'?" 

"No shittin'." 

"Well, then, yes." 

"Would you like to have a dog?" 

"That's a trick question, isn't it?" 

I grin at him and say, "Yeah, it is. How about a cat?" 

"I like cats." 

"Okay, we'll get a cat." 

"I get to name it." 

"Whatever you want, baby." 

"Oh, Ellison, you are so easy." 

I kiss him, sweet and slow. And then I whisper, "You have no idea, Blair, you have no idea." 

* * *

End The Test by Pink Dragon: pinkdragon456@aol.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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